


Personal Attention

by RavenWhitecastle



Series: The Sinner and the Saint [27]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Facial Shaving, Fluff, Love, M/M, Post Samaritan, Shaving, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 15:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17449253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWhitecastle/pseuds/RavenWhitecastle
Summary: John's cover identity is a homicide detective at the NYPD, and Harold has taken it upon himself to make John look the part.





	Personal Attention

John sat quietly as Harold examined his hair, tugging softly at the salt and pepper strands. “Is all this really necessary?” John asked.

“If you’re going to play the part of an NYPD homicide detective,” Harold answered patiently, “you’re going to have to look like one.” He brandished the barber’s shears before turning John around in his spinning chair. Harold had practically turned their bathroom into a makeshift salon, with a plastic sheet on the floor and a wide variety of hair products. 

Harold looked at John’s reflection. “Do you trust me?”   
John raised an eyebrow. “You already know the answer to that.”

“Even so, I AM holding scissors. Given your history of being impaled, I concurred that I should get your consent.”

Smirking, John asked, “Are you planning on stabbing me, Harold?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you have my consent.”

With no further hesitation, Harold set about trimming John’s graying locks. He took just a little off the front, shortening the pieces that sometimes fell across John’s forehead.

“When was the last time you went to a barber?” Harold asked.

To his credit, John didn’t shrug, intensely aware of how his every movement risked bringing him closer to the scissors’ sharp blades. “I guess it’s been a couple of weeks. I’ve been kind of busy,” he teased.

Harold moved on to the back of John’s head, snipping the longer strands at the nape of John’s neck. “I should reprimand you for neglecting your grooming and personal hygiene,” Harold murmured, “but I have to admit I’m pleased to have this opportunity.” 

John couldn’t complain either. He liked the feeling of Harold’s fingers dancing over his scalp. He liked the cool metal of the flat side of the shears sliding across his skin as Harold cut across to create an even layer. He liked the smell of Harold’s hair product, minty and smoky like the woods.

Harold ran his hair through John’s hair to apply the stiffening gel, parting John’s hair to the side he always did. He wiped his hands on a towel before brushing off John’s shoulders. “There,” he said with finality, “Much better.”

John turned to look at his hair from all angles. Harold had done excellent work, cutting it just the way John liked it. It looked sharp. Lips quirking into a smile, John asked, “Where did you learn to cut hair like that?”

Harold’s eyes twinkled. “Here and there.”

Rolling his eyes, John gave up any hope of getting an answer. He removed the apron that had served as a makeshift smock and moved to stand. 

Harold stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Did I say you could move?”   
John’s eyebrows rose. “Is it going to be THAT kind of haircut?” he murmured.

Shuffling around out of view, Harold answered, “I said I’d make you look like a proper Detective.” He circled back around to John’s front. “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

In his hands, Harold had a bowl and a fat brush, the kind used for an old-fashioned shave.

John shook his head, chuckling. “You’re just full of surprises, even after all this time.”

Harold was busy lathering up the shaving cream. “There’s no point in shaving if you’re not going to do it right,” he commented, eyes cast downward. John silently wondered if Harold was even capable of growing a beard.

Harold paused one more time, lips pursed. “This is mildly more… risky than a trim,” he pointed out, “I would understand if you wanted to do this part yourself.”

Smiling fondly, John replied, “I trust you.”

Harold took a deep breath and his shoulders loosened. Setting about his work, he covered John’s chin with the cream. It was smooth and cool, and John allowed his eyes to fall shut. The circular painting motion across his face was soothing, and besides, he was in good hands.   
There was the sound of running water. When it stopped, Harold whispered, “Hold still.” John waited. There was the cool sensation of the straight razor scraping at the bottom of his sideburns.

Harold spoke quietly as he worked. “It’s curious,” he said, “having you in a position where you can’t speak. It’s a bit reminiscent of other activities.”

He was referring to certain experiences in the bedroom. John’s lips didn’t even twitch at the memory, but when he heard the water running as Harold rinsed his razor, he allowed himself a small chuckle.

“While I do love your voice,” Harold continued as he moved on to John’s cheeks, “I can appreciate the chance to say a few things without being interrupted.”

John’s eyes opened a crack, and he raised an eyebrow expectantly. 

“First of all,” Harold murmured, rinsing his razor again, “I can tell you not take any unnecessary risks, and you can’t argue with me. Lips.” John curled his lips together so Harold could shave the space beneath his nose. There was a brief pause as Harold stopped to concentrate. “Secondly” Harold went to work on his chin, “I can assure you that you’re not at fault for anything. I know how much you tend to blame yourself, but I want to take this chance to tell you not to. Up.”

Swallowing, John lifted his chin so Harold could shave his neck. Harold was right. John had laid awake at night wondering what more he could have done, if he should have killed the congressman, but in the moment, he was helpless to disagree. He could do nothing but accept Harold’s forgiveness. 

“And finally,” Harold said as he made upwards strokes over John’s neck, “I can tell you how ardently I love you, that the state of the world and the Machine and all of our enemies will never change how much I love you.”   
John was grateful that Harold was distracted by rinsing off his razor again, so that Harold didn’t see John blinking away a tear or two.

Carefully, Harold rinsed away the excess lather and patted John’s face dry. “There you are.” He smiled and leaned forward to give John a quick peck on the lips. “What do you think?”

John didn’t want to look away from Harold’s beaming face, clearly pleased with his handiwork, but John pried his gaze away to look in the mirror. There was his chin, and his neck and his jawline. He looked younger, cleaner, fresh. 

He swallowed again, letting out the breath he’d been holding. “I think I want you to cut my hair from now on.”

**Author's Note:**

> So there is fanart that inspired this somewhere, but I don't know the artist or the source. Anyway, this piece was so much fun to write. I'm not going to lie, I'm kind of proud of Harold's dialogue. These two are my absolute faves to write. Hope you enjoy it!


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